Wednesday, June 2, 2010

A is for Ambulatory

Going to see my bestest monkey, Gwen, this past weekend was eleventy hundred sorts of awesomeness. Man I love that weirdo.

I ran into Gwen when I was stopping to pee after I got off the plane- she was coming out of the pisser, I was going in. The best part was that she didn't say "HEY!" or "Whiskey!!" or anything like that when she spotted me- she just sort of let out a hee-haw, nerdy sort of giggle. It was adorable. We hugged and immediately starting talking about pooping.
So predictable, we are.

I was wearing a t-shirt that I had made just for the occasion (some of you will get this, some of you may not. It's a long, embarrassing story that I'll save for a drunken post in the future):

The weekend was perfect- a blur of food, animal hats, fake butts, cocktails, too much wine, more food, sunburn, lounging, cannonballing, ice cream, cat grooming and manual labor. I think at one point that Gwen slipped me something in my drink and got me to re-roof her house, but the only evidence I have of such a thing was waking up with asphalt shingles stuck to my knees, and I guess I now own a nail gun.

A bit of evidence that I actually spent the weekend in St. Louis with Gwen, and not pole-dancing at a truck stop in Arkansas, as rumors on the in-ter-nets would have you believe:

Gwen and I after our commitment ceremony at City Hall. Gwen wore white, I wore a donkey suit. It was as beautiful as it sounds:

The giant, tiled, mushroom/penis sculpture at the bar we went to Friday night. It was penitacular:

Gwen and I slow dancing, catholic prom style:

Gwen is quite the gardener. She currently is attempting to grow human butts, with mixed results:

Hanging out at the Hamptons (aka Gwen's back yard by the big blow-up pool) with a fruity beverage and pig ears:

Once we were tipsy enough to refuse to recognize any idea as a bad one, we decided to give each other tattoos, "prison-style". My boob rose:

And my Celtic/Asian/Generic stripe, based on any number of tattoos generally found on Ultimate Fighting enthusiasts:

Gwen couldn't figure out why everyone at the ice cream store was looking at her funny, then she remembered that she had a hat on. On a related note: I am not wearing pants in this picture. No lie.

Before I flew home on Sunday, we met some of Gwen's friends for brunch at a swanky hotel. This? This was just the "dessert station". There was also a "cured meat and cheese station" and both an oyster bar and a bloody mary bar, among other treats. Oh, and unlimited mimosas.

Last night I sat at the computer for an hour drafting and reasing and drafting a post. I'd already picked out the pictures I wanted to use but we just had such an awesome time that words failed me. I'm happy to see that you were able to make some sense of our Whirlwind of Fun Goodness Weekend and share our story. I promise to try harder tonight because everyone needs to see you napping on my front sidewalk and doing your chores.

One of these times I fully expect that you won't come back from your trip to St. Louis... While we all wait for you to update your blog with stories of pooping and drunken debauchery, you'll really be tied up in Gwen's basement with a basket of lotion or whatever she has planned for you. But until that time, you two are adorable.